B aldwin woke, disoriented. He looked around and remembered where he was. He was on the cot in his office. Anger bubbled in his chest, he jumped to his feet. There was work to be done. The ways of the OA often made no sense as far as logic went, and bristling about their decision-making process would get him nowhere.
He stretched, went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth, then sought out his boss.
Garrett was standing in the middle of his office, a landline glued to his ear. He nodded at Baldwin and gestured to the sofa, uh-huhing into the receiver the whole time. Right after Baldwin sat, he hung up.
“Well, some good news, at least. The rental car from Colorado was dropped off in Missouri. Looks like our boy spent the night in St. Louis. Problem is, we’ve got nothing on him since. None of the names we have on file have shown up within one hundred miles of St. Louis in any direction. Photos have gone out to all the law enforcement folks, but for the time being, we’ve lost him.”
Great. St. Louis was less than a day’s drive to Nashville, an hour by plane. If Baldwin’s gut was right, and it always was, Aiden could be closing in already.
“You said he was in Europe at last count, and the tracker was found dead in Italy. Do we have any proof that he saw me there? That he saw us there? Has he been communicating with anyone?”
“Atlantic hasn’t found anything substantial over there, just the timing. Without the tracker’s information, it’s worthless. It would make sense that he picked up your trail while you and Taylor were there, don’t you think?”
“It does.” He was quiet for a moment. “I need to go back to Nashville, Garrett. I can’t let him get any closer to her. He’s too unpredictable, too dangerous. I don’t know what his agenda is, but if he’s planning some sort of revenge…I refuse to let that happen. I won’t lose her.”
“Just give us some more time, Baldwin. We’re going to track him down. If we don’t have him by tonight, you’re out of here. Fair enough?”
“I don’t know what more I can do for you, Garrett. I don’t know where he is.”
“There are still sources that haven’t checked in. We may be off entirely, he may be on a job. Give us a little more time to see what shakes out. Okay?”
Great. Just great. He was stuck here, looking for a man who might be headed right at his lover. Perfect.
“Fine,” he said, voice tight and controlled. “Let’s go find the bastard.”
Twenty-Five
T aylor sat on her back deck, watching the lightning bugs. This was her perfect time of day, the heartbeat moments between evening and night. She drank beer from the bottle absently.
This had to have been the most fucked-up day she’d had in a very long time.
She and Sam had shared quesadillas and chips, then Sam shot off to pick up the twins and Taylor called the girls renting her cabin. The roommates wouldn’t be home for another two hours and had agreed to meet her at nine. She decided to go home, grab a shower and think.
She needed to talk to Thalia Abbott about this teenage sex club. She needed to ascertain whether Todd Wolff was simply a sex fiend or if he’d gone over the edge and killed his wife and unborn son.
Friday morning she’d meet with Corinne Wolff’s therapist and find out what drove a totally healthy, strong woman into amateur pornography, psychotropic drugs and psychotherapy for panic disorders. She was fascinated by Corinne’s opposing personalities.
She needed to decide what to do about her own videos.
She was exhausted. The massage had been both a blessing and a curse. In the quiet moments between Jasmine’s questions, she’d had time to think about what she’d done with Tony Gorman. Once the adrenaline had faded from the afternoon, Taylor wasn’t exactly proud of herself. Gorman didn’t give her a choice, but she’d never actually threatened a suspect before. Shit, he wasn’t even a suspect, just someone she knew would give her answers. She must have been desperate. What if he came back and accused her of something?
No, he wouldn’t. He was a putz. She was fine on that account. What she didn’t know was how much longer she could hide the information from Price. Or Baldwin.
Lincoln had tracked down the offices in California that were listed on the billing statements for the Selectnet Web site. But the trail had ended there. Despite Lincoln’s raw talent for ferreting information out of the ether, even he was stymied. Notwithstanding Gorman’s information, most of which they already had, he needed bigger resources. Which of course meant escalating the investigation.
She was tempted to let Lincoln simply wipe her videos from the system. More than tempted. That would cover her ass. But how many other women were in those video files unaware? Could she in good conscience walk away from them too?
She knew the answer to that. She didn’t have a choice, not anymore. She took another swig of beer, set the bottle on the deck railing, lining up the bottom of the container with the wet ring its condensation created on the dark redwood. The evening still had some lingering warmth from the afternoon sun, a nice counterpoint to the chilly start to her day. She rubbed the back of her neck, then dialed the phone. Baldwin answered on the first ring.
“Hi, babe. How are you?”
She took a deep breath. “I’ve been better. Do you have a minute?”
“Actually, yes. What’s wrong?”
“I need some professional advice.” She laid out the facts in as cool a voice as she could. When she finished, she could hear him breathing in the background.
After a moment, she heard him mutter, “Son of a bitch.”
Yeah, you hit that one on the head.
He continued, his voice strained. “Jesus, Taylor. This isn’t the best timing.”
“Trust me, I’m a little perturbed myself. But that’s not the big problem. My embarrassment aside, I don’t know how many more videos are up there of other unsuspecting women. From what we could access through their firewall, the vast majority of the videos are just like the ones of me. Dark, grainy, low quality. Hidden cameras. Lincoln hasn’t busted through to their higher echelons yet, the better stuff might be hidden up there.”
He was silent.
“For God’s sake, say something.”
“What do you want me to say, Taylor? This is a bit overwhelming. Are you sure there aren’t more of you?”
“No, I’m not sure. I’m not sure of anything. All I know is there was a slew of videos of me fucking some guy I can’t stand. Some guy I fucking killed.” She couldn’t help raising her voice. “What is this, Baldwin? Are you jealous of a fucking ghost?”
“Don’t start attacking me. I’m-”
“You have absolutely no idea how humiliating this is. My team saw the video. Lincoln and Marcus saw me. And God knows how many other people. So yeah, I’m a little upset. And you’re not helping.”
He was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice had a dangerous edge.
“I’m just not exactly thrilled with the idea of my fiancee on the Internet, fucking, as you so crudely put it, another man.”
Taylor caught her breath. “It’s not like I arranged for this, or gave my consent. Come on, Baldwin, what the hell?”
She was just about to hang up on him when he said, “I’m sorry. You’re right. That was cruel of me. Are you okay?”
“Of course I’m not okay,” she snapped. “But I don’t have a choice. I need to figure out what to tell my boss.”
“Don’t do that just yet. God, Taylor. You landed in it this time. Let me look into this. It sounds a lot like a case we had a few years back. We busted an amateur porn ring, a group of motorcycle freaks who were posting videos of unsuspecting women showering in their homes. I’ll make a couple of calls, see what I can find out.”
“What, now you’re sorry about it all and you want to help?” The snide edge to her tone surprised her. That wasn’t fair of her. He sighed deeply then, and she wished she could take it back.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant-”
